


Service Dogs for Superheroes (SDfSH): Nebula and Quasar

by literally_no_idea



Series: Service Dogs for Superheroes (SDfSH) Main Series [34]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Animal Abuse, Animal Violence, Dogs, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, SDfSH 'verse, Service Animals, Service Dogs, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, animal cruelty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 14:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18470962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literally_no_idea/pseuds/literally_no_idea
Summary: If there's one constant in the heroes’ lives, it’s that things never stay calm for more than a couple weeks at most, and even that’s rare. Not long after T’Challa goes back to Wakanda, a spaceship appears in the sky above Central Park, and while no villain seems to have stepped out yet, that’s not the kind of thing you leave to chance.The Avengers head over to investigate, only to find a group sitting at the bottom of the ship’s ramp, eating what looks like a picnic meal.





	Service Dogs for Superheroes (SDfSH): Nebula and Quasar

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to the series, or if you're new here, welcome! This part of the series is about Nebula and Quasar.
> 
> Please be aware that there is a scene in which an animal is being hurt. The description of what's happening is as non-graphic as possible and is about two lines long at most, but it's still there. If you'd rather not read that, you'll want to skip the two paragraphs after this line/paragraph:
> 
> "Tonight, she’s walking through part of downtown New York when she hears yelping and a woman’s voice yelling."
> 
> Other than that, enjoy!

If there's one constant in the heroes’ lives, it’s that things never stay calm for more than a couple weeks at most, and even that’s rare. Not long after T’Challa goes back to Wakanda, a spaceship appears in the sky above Central Park, and while no villain seems to have stepped out yet, that’s not the kind of thing you leave to chance.

 

The Avengers head over to investigate, only to find a group sitting at the bottom of the ship’s ramp, eating what looks like a picnic meal.

 

“Good afternoon, folks, I’m sorry, but you weren’t on the guest list for Earth today, may I ask your names?” Tony says, landing the suit and walking forward, the suit folding away down to his shoulders.

 

The person in the group that looks like a human jumps to his feet, frowning. “Uh, I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to be on my own home planet,” he says, “and since when did humans turn into a real life version of Space Invaders?”

 

Tony scowls, and Steve steps in front of him before he can say anything that could cause a fight here.

 

“We’re just making sure everything’s fine here, we just want to meet you all. I’m Steve Rogers,” he introduces, holding out his hand.

 

“Peter Quill,” the man answers, shaking his hand and then turning to point at the other people in his group.

 

“That’s Gamora, Drax, Rocket, Groot, and Nebula.”

 

Tony’s head cocks to the side. “Are those prosthetic enhancements?” Tony steps forward to look at Nebula, only for her to move gracefully to her feet, knives sliding out of her sleeves as she takes up a defensive pose. Tony takes a step back, raising his hands. “Whoa, sorry, didn’t mean to piss you off. Just curious. They look kind of painful. Speaking from experience, improperly managed tech in your body sucks. I bet I can help, if you don’t stab me first.”

 

Nebula stands up straight, relaxing a little even as she continues to glare at him. “What would a human know about that?”

 

“Most humans? Not much. But a human that had a miniature reactor in his chest that used to keep him alive? Quite a bit. Tony Stark, by the way.”

 

“This is really fun and all, but I was kind of enjoying lunch here,” Peter interrupts, and all eyes turn back to him.

 

Tony shrugs. “Sorry,” he says, voice lacking any note of apology. “We’ll leave though, you don’t seem like you’re planning on taking over the planet.” Tony turns back to Nebula. “You can come with us, if you want. I’ll fix those prosthetics for you.”

 

Nebula hesitates, like she’s not sure what to think of that, and she turns to give Gamora a questioning look.

 

“It couldn’t hurt,” Gamora says, “Rocket said it’s not something he could do just on the ship and not when it’s actually part of someone’s body, so maybe he can help. It’s up to you. But we do have to leave today, so if you stay, you’ll be here for a while.”

 

Nebula looks between the two groups, then slowly starts to walk over to Tony, who grins at her.

 

“Awesome. Trust me, this’ll be great. You won’t regret it. Mostly.”

 

* * *

 

Tony spends most of the afternoon analyzing and tinkering with Nebula’s prosthetics, talking to her while he works.

 

“So, why all the prosthetics in the first place?” he asks, typing calculations on a screen near the table he has Nebula sitting on.

 

“My father decided I wasn’t good enough, and that for every failure, he would replace part of me with a machine, to ‘fix’ me,” Nebula says, watching as Diva wanders over to sniff her, licking her fingers and walking back over to Tony.

 

Tony pauses, looking up to meet Nebula’s gaze. “Huh. Sounds like our dads had some things in common,” he says softly, clearing his throat as he turns back to the calculations he’s working on. “Anyway, we should have you out of here soon. I can do more, but this will at least be enough of a change for you to let me know what does and doesn’t work, okay? Then we can do some more adjustments in, I don’t know, a day or two.”

 

Nebula nods, so Tony gets to work on actually making his calculations reality.

 

* * *

 

They have dinner with the rest of the team later that night, and Nebula stands off to the side, awkwardly holding her plate of chicken tikka masala and naan. Tony notices, and waves her over to the couches where everyone is gathering.

 

“Come here, you can watch with us. Bruce made dinner, so he’s picking the movie, but he has some pretty good taste in both food and films, so I’m sure you’ll enjoy them both.”

 

Nebula sits on the couch beside Tony, mimicking the way he eats the masala and watching The Little Prince. It’s not a bad movie, and so far the people seem pretty nice too. Nebula’s not willing to befriend them all yet, but she can see that they have good intentions, if nothing else.

 

When the movie’s over and everyone starts to head to bed, Tony shows her down to another floor that he says is hers, if she wants it (“I have tons of spare floors, we seem to attract more and more superheroes every single day,” he explains so casually that Nebula wonders how often this really happens), and as he gets in the elevator, he says he’s going to buy her clothes, he has an approximate idea of her size based on their interactions today, and the elevator doors close before she can argue or ask any questions about that.

 

* * *

 

True to Tony’s word, Nebula wakes up the next morning to a large stack of boxes in the hallway just outside the elevator, with a note taped to the top that says “anything you don’t want, leave in the box, otherwise I hope you like them. come join us for breakfast on the communal floor, if you'd like -Tony,” and when she opens the boxes, she finds a wide range of clothes in all kinds of patterns and colors.

 

She tries on a black sports bra, a baggy plain black shirt, a pair of underwear and plain black jeans, and she finds that everything fits just about perfectly. She’s not entirely surprised; she could tell just from the speed with which Tony had worked on her prosthetics yesterday that he has the kind of mind that can provide accurate numbers, calculations, and estimates on the fly, so him finding clothes that fit her probably wasn’t hard for him.

 

What does surprise her, however, is how he’d managed to find clothes that she would want to wear, also. Most people assume that she prefers tight fitting shirts, but that’s only because that’s what she’s worn her entire life; she’d never had a choice in the matter, just wearing what Thanos or Ronan had given her, so to have someone give her the chance to wear something different is shocking, to say the least. She can see tighter fitting clothes in the boxes, too, but clearly Tony had wanted to give her options.

 

She digs through the boxes until she finds a pair of socks, shoes, and a soft, dark grey hoodie, and she pulls those on, figuring that the less alien and out of place she looks, the more comfortable everyone else will be around her, so it’ll be better to cover as much skin as possible. Finally satisfied with her appearance, she tosses the rest of the clothes onto her bed, leaves the boxes in the hallway, and heads up to the communal floor.

 

“Hi Nebula,” someone greets the moment she steps out of the elevator, and she frowns, because she doesn’t see anyone until she turns the corner into the living room, spotting someone in the kitchen, cooking, a dog sitting near them.

 

“You saw me from over there?” she asks, and the person turns, shrugging, their metal arm making the action look a little awkward.

 

“No, I heard you. One of the effects of the serum, I can hear more than most people. I heard the hum of your prosthetics,” he explains, turning back to make sure the sausage and bacon he’s cooking doesn’t burn.

 

“I don’t know your name,” Nebula says in a change of topic, because she’s not quite sure what to do with that new information, and she can maybe figure it out later if she knows this person’s name.

 

“Bucky Barnes,” he says, “And you’re not really going to find much about the serum online, if that’s what you’re curious about. Even Steve and I aren’t really sure what all the serums can do. Doesn’t let us die, apparently, makes us constantly hungry, we can’t get drunk, and we’re high energy, we both have to do a lot of exercise just so we don’t feel like we’re going to go stir crazy. Who knows what else. What’s your story, though? Because from one person with a prosthetic to another, that shit sucks, and usually doesn’t have a happy story behind it.”

 

Nebula’s saved from having to answer when Steve comes through the living room, talking to another man who’s a little out of breath, both of them accompanied by dogs.

 

“No, seriously, this isn’t fair,” the other man says, “you’re, what, a hundred years old?”

 

“A hundred and one this year,” Steve confirms, and the other man groans.

 

“Exactly! You should not be able to run that fast. And I’m starting to think you gave Verity some kind of serum, too, because Ava should definitely be able to outrun her.”

 

Nebula expects this new guy to be freaked out when he sees her, but when he and Steve spot her, the guy just nods his head at her.

 

“Hi, g’morning. You new? I’m Sam.”

 

“Nebula,” she says, and Sam just nods, heading for the fridge.

 

“Cool. You want orange juice? There’s a ton of shit in here, so you can have your pick. There’s also coffee, and tea, but don’t touch Natasha’s fancy Russian teas, I’ve seen her kill for less.”

 

Nebula’s having a hard time believing just how easily these people adjust to everything around them, and she wants to ask about that, but she has another question in mind too.

 

“Why all the dogs?” she asks, and Steve answers from where he’s setting the table.

 

“They’re service animals. Do you have service animals, where you’re from? And actually, I have no idea where you’re from.”

 

Nebula shakes her head. “No, Thanos always wanted to get rid of as much unnecessary life as possible. Animals would have fallen in that category. I’m originally from Luphom, but Thanos murdered my family and took me as his kid, so I guess technically I’m from his ship, and then the Guardians’ ship, after they rescued me.”

 

“Huh,” Bucky says without missing a beat, “You might want to talk to Loki. I bet you two could relate on some things. Anyway, service animals. They help people who are disabled. Like, PTSD, wheelchairs, seizures, all kinds of things.”

 

Nebula seriously, seriously doesn’t understand how these people are so calm about everything. What have these people gone through?

 

“Is it bacon day? Oh, fuck yeah, it’s bacon day. Bucky, you’re my favorite!” Tony shouts as he enters the kitchen with his dog, and Bucky rolls his eyes, gently smacking Tony’s hand away from the plate of bacon.

 

“Yes, it’s bacon day, no, you can’t have any yet, and I’m not your favorite, bacon is your favorite, I just make the bacon.”

 

Tony nods. “Yeah, that’s true. Fine, I need coffee anyway. I had some new ideas about your prosthetics,” Tony points at Nebula, “and now I’m excited. After breakfast, workshop, yeah?”

 

“Sure.” Nebula follows Tony over to the table, sitting down while they wait for Bucky to finish cooking and the rest of the team to show up.

 

It doesn’t take long; pretty soon, the dining room is filling up with people, each of them introducing themselves to Nebula finally. When Loki introduces himself, Nebula stops, staring at him for a moment.

 

“I remember you,” she says finally, “You’re the one Thanos tried to kill. Your brother was the one who killed him, and got me back to the Guardians’ ship. I thought I was going to die there. If you hadn’t challenged him, if you and your brother hadn’t challenged him, I might be dead right now.”

 

There’s a minute of silence while Loki tries to come up with a reply and fails, and then the Bucky starts carrying the food in, and Loki’s saved from having to answer, because as soon as they’ve eaten, Tony drags Nebula down to the workshop to work on her prosthetics some more.

 

“How did the modifications feel so far? Anything really good, really bad?” Tony asks, “And the clothes? Anything you hated, anything else you wanted?” Nebula shrugs.

 

“Modifications just feel different. A little better. The clothes were great. You picked exactly the right sizes.”

 

Tony grins. “Cool! Oh, also, I don’t know what kind of pronouns you use. Most of us just let people use whatever they assume, but we do have preferences, if you ask us. I’m a he or they pronoun person.”

 

“I think she,” Nebula says, “I was a boy when Thanos found me, but he didn’t want competition, so he forced me to become a girl, become his daughter, so I could be more like Gamora.” The words leave a bitter taste in Nebula’s mouth as she says them.

 

Tony frowns. “Well, what do you feel like you are? What do you prefer? What feels right?”

 

Nebula thinks about it. “She. Maybe it’s years of conditioning, but I don’t know if I could be a ‘he’ again.”

 

“Hey, if that’s what works for you, that’s what works for you. Doesn’t matter how you got to that conclusion. If you really think it’s just abuse, you could talk to a therapist, they can help you figure that out, but I think that if you’re happy with this, then that’s fine.”

 

Nebula nods. “Then I think I’m happy with this.”

 

“Alright. She pronouns it is then. So, your prosthetics. I was thinking, maybe I need to work with it less like it’s an insert, like the reactor was for me, and less like a normal prosthetic, like Bucky’s arm, and more like a mix of the two. So, if we calibrate them to work with your body’s natural systems, but also to operate independently a little, to self regulate, you know? Then we can just…”

 

* * *

 

It takes weeks for Tony to get Nebula’s prosthetics to a place where both he and Nebula are happy with how they’re working, and in that time, he and Nebula bond a lot. They actually have quite a bit in common; fears of abandonment, lack of trust in others, and fathers that were abusive, ran empires of one kind or another, and forced their kids to do things that they weren’t comfortable with.

 

When Nebula’s not in the workshop with Tony, she spends a lot of time wandering around alone, seemingly trying to avoid people, but it’s hard when there’s so many heroes around the tower all the time. She’s not actually trying to avoid people, necessarily; well, she is, but mostly because she’s sure that no one’s going to want her around, so when people approach her, she’s actually a lot more friendly than she seems.

 

Natasha, in particular, seems to try and interact with her, and Nebula’s not entirely sure why, unless it’s just because she wants another person who’s more feminine to talk to, but even that doesn’t make sense, because almost everyone in the tower seems to be not cis or strictly female, including Natasha.

 

Whatever the reason for it, Natasha spends a lot of time with Nebula, trying to convince her to spend more time with the rest of the team and interact to varying degrees of success. Nebula discovers that she sucks at Mario Kart, is great at Super Smash Bros Melee, and has absolutely zero talent for dancing, and all of the people that either live in or come to the tower seem to like her.

 

Still, Nebula tries to avoid people, and decides that even if the people in the tower like her, she doubts she’ll find the same sentiment with other people outside the tower, and so she limits her adventures outside to after dark only, and that works pretty well for her most of the time, but apparently not tonight.

 

Tonight, she’s walking through part of downtown New York when she hears yelping and a woman’s voice yelling.

 

“Fucking dog, digging through the trash! Are you fucking kidding me? Third time this week, couldn’t bother someone else, could you? I’ll fucking take as many chunks out of you as you’ve taken out of the trash bags, you mangy mutt!”

 

Nebula runs in the direction of the yelling, following it down a back alley where she finds a woman kneeling over a dog, hacking away at the dog’s body with a butcher’s knife.

 

“Leave the dog alone,” Nebula says, and the woman turns, sneering at her.

 

“Or what? What are you going to do, scratch me? You don’t look like you could put up much of a fight anyway, you’re swimming in that hoodie.”

 

Nebula lowers the hood, and the woman pales when she sees Nebula’s blue skin and metal face.

 

“I said, leave the dog alone. Or holes in your trash will be the least of your worries.”

 

The woman scrambles to her feet, dropping the knife and running back into her business through the alley door.

 

When Nebula’s sure she’s not coming back, she rushes over to the dog, pulling off her hoodie and wrapping the dog in it. The dog whimpers as Nebula picks it up, and she shushes the dog quietly, carrying the dog back to the tower as fast as she can without hurting the dog too much in the process.

 

“JARVIS,” she says as she enters the lobby, “Get Stark. There’s a hurt dog.”

 

“Absolutely, Ms. Nebula,” JARVIS answers, “please enter the elevator and I’ll take you to the animal medical bay.”

 

Nebula takes the dog into the elevator, getting off on the floor JARVIS drops them off at, and she’s barely set the dog down on the bed in the nearest room when Tony comes rushing in.

 

“What happened, how bad is-- holy shit. Hold on, I’m calling Anita back.”

 

He steps out, and in 15 minutes there’s three people rushing into the room, pushing Nebula out.

 

“We need space, we’ll let you know when things are looking better, but right now we need the room.”

 

Nebula waits outside in one of the chairs in the hallway, and Tony sits beside her.

 

“Where did you find the dog?” Tony asks.

 

“Back alley. Woman was stabbing it,” Nebula explains.

 

“Jesus. They’re going to need a while, you know? Why don’t we go down to the communal floor to wait. You like green tea, right? Besides, where we sit won’t change how long this will take.”

 

Nebula follows him down to the communal floor, and she makes green tea for herself and raspberry hot chocolate for him, because she’s heard the stories about what happens when he makes things in the kitchen himself, and they sit and wait, talking about their childhoods, because that’s usually what they do when they’re both up late, and right now, at least it takes their minds off the dog being worked on upstairs.

 

It takes seven hours for the veterinarian team to get the dog stabilized, and when Hannah, one of the assistants, comes down to talk to them, she looks exhausted.

 

“She’s doing about as good as she could be,” Hannah explains, “She’s had a lot of blood loss, and there’s so much damage to her body that she’s still barely hanging on as it is. Stark, you’ve done prosthetics before, right? Do you think you could make some for the dog?”

 

Tony nods. “It might take me a minute to figure out exactly how to make it work, but I’ve had some more practice recently.” He sets down his mug of hot chocolate, reaching a hand across the counter towards Nebula. “I’ll be back. That dog’s not going anywhere, not if I have a say in it.”

 

Then he’s gone, following Hannah back to the elevator, and Nebula’s alone on the communal floor.

 

Nebula stays up, waiting, and it takes another five hours, and at this point the other Avengers have come stumbling down to the communal floor for breakfast, and while they still ate breakfast, one look had been enough for all of them to leave Nebula alone, Bucky only interacting with her enough to set a plate of food in front of her that she ignores, staring at the elevator and waiting for Tony to come down.

 

He does, stumbling in with the vet team behind him, all of them looking positively drained.

 

“Okay. She’s going to make it,” Tony says, and Nebula can’t help the wave of relief that washes through her with that knowledge. “She’ll need time to adjust to the prosthetics, and she’s going to need a long time to recover before she’s ready for that, but she’ll be okay.”

 

Dr. Garcia nods. “He’s right. I would have said that dog had no chance, but with Tony’s help, she’ll be fine. It will take time, though. Go easy on her, okay? I’ve already told Tony the recovery procedure for her, and if Tony forgets, I’m sure JARVIS will have a record of it.”

 

“I do, Dr. Garcia,” JARVIS confirms from the ceiling.

 

“So, with that said, my team and I are going to go crash on one of the empty floors for a little while, none of us should be driving like this. Other than that, take care. And Tony, do try calling me when it’s not an emergency sometime, yeah?”

 

“Noted,” Tony says, already headed for coffee and the plate of food Bucky grabs from where he left it in the microwave to keep warm for Tony.

 

The vet team leaves, and Tony and Nebula both finally eat breakfast. As soon as she’s done, Nebula heads up to see the dog, and she’s a little startled by what she sees; the dog has prosthetics that look incredibly similar to Nebula’s, covering various parts of the dog’s body where she had been missing sections. The dog is unconscious, and Nebula sits in the room, watching her sleep while she listens to JARVIS’s rundown of the dog’s recovery plan.

 

* * *

 

After the dog recovers, Nebula doesn’t really see them again, and she just assumes that they must have given the dog away to a better home, seeing as everyone here already has dogs of their own to take care of. She doesn't mind, necessarily, but she does kind of wish she knew where the dog had gone to, so she could be certain that the dog was in a better place, but she just settles on the knowledge that the people here are good people, and they would do what’s best for the dog.

 

She’s almost put the dog out of her mind entirely when she gets a text from Natasha asking her to come to the communal floor, and she does, confused as to what the problem might be. When she steps out of the elevator and into the living room, however, she finally figures out what’s going on.

 

Everyone’s gathered there with their dogs and, in the middle of the room, Natasha is standing with Lapushka on one side of her and the dog Nebula had rescued on the other side, geared up in a harness and cape with patches that read “Service Dog, Do Not Pet,” and “This Is My Handler, She’s A Little Broken, But She’s Still Good.”

 

Nebula steps forward, speechless, and takes the leash that Natasha hands her. “Nebula, this is Quasar. Quasar, Nebula,” Natasha introduces, and just like that, Nebula loses it, collapsing in a heap beside Quasar and wrapping her arms around the dog, sobbing. She can feel her prosthetics malfunctioning slightly, but she doesn’t care, just holds onto the dog,  _ her _ dog, and cries.

 

“Thank you,” she says, when the tears have stopped for the most part, “Thank you.”

 

“You’re one of us,” Natasha says, “And you deserve love and support too. I was looking at a dog for you already, and then you brought Quasar home, and Tony and I figured that it was just meant to be.”

 

Nebula sniffles a little, wiping the tears off her face, and she looks up at Natasha and Tony. “Thank you.”

 

“Hey, you haven’t seen the best part yet!” Tony says, standing. “Sam and Frank made cake, so we’re going to have a real, proper party. You haven’t had good cake until you’ve had Sam’s, and Frank’s is just as good. You get first piece, come here.”

 

Nebula follows Tony over to the kitchen, taking the plate of cake he hands her, and she and everyone eat cake while Natasha walks her through all of Quasar’s commands. As she sits there, Nebula thinks about how she never expected to actually have a family to call her own again, but now she’s pretty sure she’s found one here.

**Author's Note:**

> Service dog fact of the day:
> 
> -So, what you see in this story is questionable at best in real life. You don't use a sick or injured dog for service dog work, and especially not mobility work. What I'll say at this point is that this part of the story is largely a suspension of disbelief, where I'm asking you to take the leap of faith that in this particular context, thanks to the prosthetic enhancements, Quasar is not only healthy again, but in some ways stronger than before the prosthetics. Again, this is not practical in real life. Do not do this with a sick or injured dog in real life. Please. For the dog's sake.
> 
> On a not-service-dog-related note, I do want to address Nebula's gender. In this story, she is a trans woman, and while Thanos may have forced her to become a woman in the first place, she still finds that she's more comfortable with identifying as female instead of as male.
> 
> I want to emphasize that what Thanos did was obviously wrong, but I also want to emphasize that if Nebula is happier as a woman, then that's who she is. How she came to that conclusion doesn't matter if that's the conclusion that she comes to of her own, non-coerced volition.
> 
> I find this important to emphasize the same way that I think it's important to emphasize that if someone is asexual due to trauma, they're still asexual, or if someone is a certain romantic/sexual orientation due to trauma, that's still their orientation.
> 
> Obviously, anyone with trauma should go through recovery to process and cope with their trauma, but if they still feel most comfortable with whatever label they've chosen, then that's their identity. I strongly resent the idea that just because someone's identity may have roots in trauma means that their identity is any less "real."
> 
> With that said, if you want to see other drabbles or notes related to this series or want to talk to me about this series or anything else, you can find me on tumblr [ here ](https://servicedogsforsuperheroes.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Just so you all know: this series is complete at forty one parts (not including the introduction), and my plan is to post the last eight parts in the next nine days; three parts on the 17th, two parts on the 20th, and the last three parts on the 23rd. I've got a rough month or so coming up, so I'm going to need some welcome distractions.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading!!


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